


The Ecstasy of Steel

by Tipsy_Kitty



Series: Steel Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:45:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipsy_Kitty/pseuds/Tipsy_Kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is a blacksmith by trade. Jensen opens his eyes to the many wonderful toys that can be forged from iron and steel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ecstasy of Steel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://smpc.livejournal.com/profile)[**smpc**](http://smpc.livejournal.com/). I had already been eyeing [this](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/73425.html?thread=25371089#t25371089) prompt at [](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/profile)[**spnkink_meme**](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/), and then when [](http://junkerin.livejournal.com/profile)[**junkerin**](http://junkerin.livejournal.com/) told me about a _very_ interesting conversation she had with a furrier, I started writing this fic. Much thanks to [](http://ashtraythief.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://ashtraythief.livejournal.com/)**ashtraythief** for giving me a second opinion!

Over the steady _ping-ping-ping_ of his hammer striking hot iron, Jared hears voices rising and falling from the front of the smithy. Mr. McNally speaking with a customer, a gentleman by the sound of it, his precise, soft-spoken cadence providing a stark contrast to McNally’s own braying voice. They don’t get a lot of upper-class types in McNally’s, which is known more for crafting simple tools and kitchen implements and horseshoes. Jared’s been turning out some finer pieces though that have attracted a bit of attention. McNally says it’s too bad Jared’s step-daddy hadn’t apprenticed him to a silversmith, but Jared doesn’t mind. He loves working with iron and steel.

When he’s finally satisfied with the fireplace poker he’s been working against the edge of the anvil, he dunks it into the water bath to set the shape and then steps away from the forge to cool off.

Sweat runs freely down his body, creating a sheen that causes his skin to glow in the firelight. He had long since shed his outer shirts and stood in only a sleeveless white undershirt, damp with sweat and plastered to his body. McNally told him he could forge his pieces naked for all he cared as long as customers weren’t present and the quality of his work didn’t falter. Jared had blushed and stammered at the very idea, but he was grateful to be allowed to remove his heavy woolen shirts. He ran a hand through the tangle of damp hair in his eyes and took a long pull from his canteen of water.

“Aye, that sounds like the work of me apprentice Jared,” McNally is saying, and Jared’s ears perk up.

“An apprentice, are you sure? It was quite a remarkable piece,” the gentleman says. “I had the great pleasure of witnessing the workmanship up close when Lord Morgan hosted a gathering, of sorts, last week.”

“Aye, Jared handles all our, ah, special orders,” McNally says with a cough. “He’s really quite gifted. Been working the forge for years, don’t y’know, been with me since he was knee high.”

The voices are drawing closer and Jared turns to see McNally leading the most handsome man Jared’s ever seen into the back of the shop. His features are chiseled, green eyes bright with intelligence, and he regards the foundry with interest. Then he turns to Jared and looks him up and down in such a way that Jared feels a bit like a rabbit that’s just been spotted by a hound. Jared straightens up, embarrassed at his state of disarray.

“Mr. Ackles, my apprentice Jared,” McNally says.

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” Jared says softly.

“So, Jared, I hear you’re the one to see about some custom work I’d like created?”

“Yes, sir,” Jared says.

“Well, then. I’m interested in obtaining a set of matching steel bracelets that can be locked in place. They should be sleek and unobtrusive but also quite strong, and should include a small D ring.”

Jared reaches for his sketchpad and begins taking down Mr. Ackles’ specifications. He has no doubt he’ll be able to do the work. He might not be the sharpest tool in the shed—his step-daddy had told him that often enough before his family moved away—but he’s very good with his hands, the best in five counties at coaxing metal to bend to his will.

“What size?” he asks, glancing up through his hair to meet the gentleman’s eyes.

“One-half inch in width.”

“And the circumference?”

Mr. Ackles steps closer into Jared’s space and wraps his fingers around Jared’s wrists.

“About like this,” he says, gazing into Jared’s startled eyes.

Jared swallows hard. “Yes, sir.”

“And of course I’ll need a second set, slightly larger than the first. Same key.” His hands are still gripping Jared’s wrists, and he glances up and down Jared’s body before adding, “Use your ankles as a guide to the size.”

Jared flushes, blinking rapidly to dispel the sudden image he has of himself shackled and at the mercy of this stranger. His stomach does a slow flip at the thought.

“I’ll not disappoint you, sir,” Jared says, fighting to keep his voice steady. Mr. Ackles smiles and steps away, and Jared finds it easier to breathe again.

“Well, let’s start with this and see how things go. If the work is acceptable I’ll require more custom pieces.” He turns on his heel and threads his way gracefully around piles of lumber towards the exit, his heavy winter cloak billowing behind him. Jared watches the open doorway for several moments before he snaps to attention again.

“You be watching out for that one, Jared,” McNally says as he readies a parcel for delivery. “He and that Lord What’s-his-name, they get up to some strange stuff from what I hear.”

“Yes, Mr. McNally,” Jared says dutifully. His wrists still tingle from the touch of Mr. Ackles’ hands, as though they are encircled in cold steel. He shivers at the thought.

During the next week, Mr. Ackles’ piercing eyes and soft lips are never far from Jared’s thoughts as he flattens and bends the steel, as he welds rings to the cuffs and fashions a small, sturdy key, barely larger than a penny. He painstakingly replicates the keyhole so that any future orders that require locks will work with the same key.

All the time that he works he imagines what Mr. Ackles will do with the steel rings. He wonders if there is a Lady Ackles waiting for him back at their large manor, who enjoys interesting bedroom games, who likes to be naked and chained up, writhing under her husband’s body, moaning prettily as he kisses her all over.

It is not a lady’s cries of pleasure he hears in his imagination, however. It is his own.

 

 

o-o

 

 

“This is exquisite work, Jared,” Mr. Ackles says as he runs a finger along the smooth iron cuffs.

“Thank you, sir.” Jared is quite pleased with his workmanship. The manacles are elegant yet strong and polished to a high shine. He could have done no better.

“Lord Morgan told me I would be pleased by what I found here, and I confess he was correct. This is truly remarkable.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jared says again.

“You may call me Jensen, Jared.”

“Oh, ah, thank you….” Jared flushes, feeling a rush of warmth all over his skin.

“Unless you prefer to call me sir?”

Jared looks away and Jensen steps closer to him, warm breath near his ear causing Jared to shudder.

“Do you want to call me Sir, Jared? Or maybe…Master?”

Jared bites his lip, startled by the tendrils of need that word evokes. He coughs to hide his discomfiture.

Jensen trails one of the cuffs along Jared’s bare arm and down to his wrist.

“Do you want to call me Master, Jared?”

Jared leans in close, until they are almost touching. Jensen’s voice is hypnotic; so self-assured, so commanding. Jared tries to speak, to say what he does not know, but is saved from answering when one of McNally’s errand boys bursts into the front of the store talking a mile a minute.

Jared blinks and steps back, feeling as though a spell has been lifted. Mr. Ackles looks disappointed when Jared clears his throat and resumes explaining how the rings on the cuffs can swivel to lock together and, once slotted into place, would be almost as strong as a permanent weld.

“I would very much like to see you demonstrate that,” Mr. Ackles says softly as he fingers the cool steel bands. Jared can see it, envisions placing the rings on his wrists, locking them together behind his back, falling to his knees…

“Mr. Jared!” yells Petey, the delivery boy. “Where’s the box what goes to the farrier?”

Jared steps away, coming back to himself and dispelling his silly daydreams with a shake of his head. The very idea of a man like Jensen Ackles taking Jared to his bed chambers is insanity. What had he been thinking?

“Excuse me, sir,” he murmurs. By the time he has loaded Petey’s small wagon with the heavy crate of horseshoes, Mr. Ackles is gone, leaving behind only a trace of his scent, a spicy blend of leather and tobacco and wood. Jared inhales deeply, longingly, and then turns back to his work.

 

 

o-o

 

 

Jared has never been much interested in gossip, but after he starts filling orders for Jensen he begins actively paying attention to the stories swirling about him. He had apparently arrived a few months before from Chicago and settled into one of the large homes in Lockerbie Square. Jensen had apparently struck up a friendship with Lord Morgan, the son of an earl who had been sent to the States in disgrace for some of his more peculiar appetites.

“I heard from Greta Schmidt—you know, her sister does the washing for Lord Morgan?—well, she says that he keeps a _naked_ woman in his boudoir!”

“Now, Millie, don’t be telling tales,” McNally says mildly.

Jared feels a rush of jealousy as he wonders if Jensen also has some comely young thing keeping his bed warm, but he blows out a breath and tries to focus on the prongs he’s lengthening to points. Jared is nothing to Jensen, how could he be?

He vows to put Jensen out of his mind, and he succeeds for almost an hour, until McNally shows him an order from Mr. Ackles that arrives by post.

“A pair of two-inch C-clamps?” Jared wonders as he reads, scratching his head. “What would a gentleman need with those?”

“I’m sure I don’t want to know,” McNally says with a snort.

Later when he’s shaping the delicate lengths of steel, fitting them with tiny screws, he thinks he might have some idea. When the pieces are picture perfect, Jared looks around guiltily, and then places one of the clamps over the tip of his pinkie finger, feeling a pulse of want as he tightens it, a sympathetic twinge in his nipples. Blushing, he hurriedly removes it and places it in the small wooden box to await delivery.

 

 

o-o

 

 

It’s early evening a week later and McNally has already gone home for supper. Jared is sweeping the floor and making sure the coals are cool before leaving when the front door opens and Jensen walks in, bringing with him a welcome gust of the early spring breeze. Jared’s whole body feels somehow brighter in Jensen’s presence, and he can’t stop the shy smile that spreads over his face.

“Mr. Ackles. What can I do for you this evening?”

“Hello Jared. I’m here to see you about the last order I placed.”

“The C-clamps? Is something wrong with them?” Jared frowns. They’d been perfect when he’d wrapped them up; maybe something had happened while they were being transported?

“Well, see, I won’t know until I try them out. I thought I’d see if you’d be willing to test them for me.”

“Test them?”

Jensen holds up the shiny steel clamps, one in each hand, and raises an eyebrow in question.

“What do I do?” Jared asks uncertainly.

“Take off your shirts and affix these to your nipples.”

“Oh,” Jared breathes, unprepared for the spike of lust caused by Jensen’s words. The broom drops limply from his grasp.

“Will you?” Jensen presses.

“Yes,” Jared says. “Please.”

He leads Jensen into the back, away from prying eyes on the busy street beyond, and then removes his shirts. He feels foolish, but Jensen can’t seem to look away from the muscles of his chest and upper arms. He’d been a scrawny thing when his mom and step-dad had dropped him off with the McNallys before heading west with his younger siblings, but years of forging iron and steel had built up his muscles quite well. He’s still fairly lean though, and wonders if, even at 22, he might still be growing. He’d heard that his father had been a giant of a man before his death.

“What a creature,” Jensen murmurs. “Touch yourself for me.”

Jared’s hands seek his nipples, teasing them until they are stiff with arousal. Jared shivers at the touch, goose bumps breaking out over his arms.

The clamps pinch a bit when they go on, and when Jensen turns the tiny screw Jared falls back against the wall gasping. The pain shoots an electric bolt of pleasure straight to his groin, and he bites his lips to hold back a moan. His hand unconsciously strays towards his denim trousers but Jensen shakes his head and Jared’s hand stills.

“They’re perfect,” Jensen says, pressing a hand against his own pants. “You’re perfect.”

“Please, Mr. Ackles, please touch me,” Jared begs, but Jensen shakes his head.

“Not yet.” He removes the clips and slides them back in their case.

Breathless with want, his nipples throbbing, Jared can only watch him walk away.

 

 

 

 

o-o

 

 

The spheres are making Jared feel slightly crazed. They had been fun to create; two hollow globes with smaller bearings inside, strung together on a thin cord. Jared had blushed profusely when he realized where he was expected to put them, but Jensen had instructed him to wear them to work, and the constant shifting and rolling pressure inside makes him ache to be touched. When Jensen visits that night he demands Jared give him a full report of all the salacious daydreams he had during the day while he should have been concentrating on making a set of andirons.

“Tell me,” Jensen says. Jared, leaning against the back wall, feels pinned in place by the force of Jensen’s gaze.

“I never...” Jared starts, but he’s too mortified to continue.

“You never put anything in your bottom before.”

Jared shakes his head in confirmation.

“But you liked it?”

Jared nods wordlessly.

“Show me,” Jensen says. “Show me how much you liked it.”

Jared’s eyes lock with Jensen’s as he lowers his trousers. He stands naked before Jensen in the dim light of the few remaining coals and what little light filters in from the door.

He strokes his cock, which had already been at half mast, until it is hard as one of his own creations, until he is begging Jensen to come closer, to touch him, to take him. One hand slides lower between his legs, tugging at the cord that holds the metal spheres in place, groaning as one catches on that strange point of pleasure inside him he’d never known existed before this morning.

“Please, sir, please touch me,” Jared pleads, shameless, but Jensen shakes his head. His eyes are glittering though, lips slightly parted as he watches, and Jared can see that his exhibition is having an effect on Jensen.

“Once I touch you there’s no going back,” Jensen says hoarsely. “You’re all in.”

“That’s what I want,” Jared insists, thrusting into his hand.

“Pull the cord, Jared.”

Jared does, the spheres catching on his stretched rim before they are wrenched free of his body. His vision dims until all he sees are Jensen’s eyes, and his entire body contracts, back arching and balls contracting as pulses of ropey come land on his chest and begin trickling down his belly.

His legs buckle and he collapses in a heap of long, sweaty limbs on the floor of the foundry. When he can think again, he realizes that Jensen is holding him and smoothing his damp hair.

“So perfect,” Jensen says softly, his face bathed blue in the summer twilight. “So big and strong, Jared, but you come apart at the seams for me, just for me.”

Jared takes advantage of the closeness, of the warmth of Jensen’s skin, to lean forward and steal a kiss.

It’s perfect, too.

 

 

o-o

 

 

“Did you have any problems with it?” Jensen asks, inquiring about Jared’s latest creation, an object shaped somewhat like a tiny Christmas tree with a crooked tip.

The object that is currently lodged in Jared’s bottom.

“It was easy enough to make,” Jared says, averting his eyes.

Jensen smirks. “That wasn’t what I meant, as you well know. How does it _feel_?”

Jared blushes but looks up and meets Jensen’s eye.

“I wish it was you,” Jared says.

“Soon,” Jensen promises.

He instructs Jared to remove his clothing and stretch out on the oak trestle table at the back of the store, arms bent back by his ears and fingers grasping the table’s edge. His cock is engorged, lying hot and heavy against his belly. Jensen nudges Jared’s legs until they’re pulled tight against his chest, and then he begins rotating the plug, shifting it around inside Jared so until he feels lit up like a sparkler. It becomes more and more difficult to hold his body still as Jensen directed, when all he wants to do is pull Jensen to him, urge Jensen inside of him.

“Please, Jensen,” he rasps.

Jensen continues playing with the plug so it stimulates that pleasurable button inside Jared, his other hand moving to Jared’s cock. His hands quicken and Jared closes his eyes, lost in a forest of sensations.

“Please,” he says again. “Oh, Master, please.”

He hears Jensen suck in a breath at the word, and then he’s coming with a hiss and a moan, once again nearly blacking out from the blissful sensations.

He opens his eyes slowly and sees Jensen pumping his own cock into his fist. It doesn’t take long before Jensen’s release is mingling with Jared’s.

As he’s wiping Jared down with a clean handkerchief, he asks, almost too casually, “Did you mean it?”

“Yes. Yes, Master.”

 

 

o-o

 

 

The final piece Jensen requisitions is a small curved cage that looks not unlike a kitchen whisk. It’s attached to a thicker, hinged ring fitted with a lock, and it fills Jared with a combination of apprehension and determination. He’s not convinced he’s going to enjoy this toy as much as the other creations, but for Jensen, for his Master, he will do it.

All the while that he’s bending and shaping the steel, polishing it smooth, he imagines touching and kissing Jensen, running his hands along the perfect flesh of his cock, plumping it up so Jensen can impale him with it. It’s increasingly difficult to keep his rather obvious excitement concealed from the others bustling in and out of the shop. His body is humming with excitement but his mind is awhirl with anxiety. What if Jensen changes his mind? What if he’s just been playing with Jared? What if he’s stringing along shopgirls and tradesmen all up and down the business district?

Jared is beginning to feel like a fool for even thinking Jensen would be interested in anything more than a few dalliances with him.

The next day McNally enters the back of the store and places a small wooden crate down in front of him.

“Delivery,” he says.

“What is it?” Jared asks.

“Well, now, I’m supposing you’ll have to open it to see. But I imagine it’s from that suitor of yours.”

Jared’s ears go pink at the implication, wonders if McNally’s going to throw him to the curb for being a deviant, but instead he claps Jared on the shoulder.

“Be careful, Jared, and know you can always come back here if need be.”

Jared is puzzled by that until he sees the card tucked in between two of the slats, creamy, thick paper with four words written upon it in thick black ink.

_Come away with me._

Jared smiles.

Inside the box he finds four steel cuffs, two nipple clamps, the oddly shaped plug, and the cage that he’d only finished polishing the day before. There are no further instructions, but Jared knows what to do. He goes up to his room and strips out of his grubby work clothes, washes himself off in the basin, and then begins ornamenting his body with Jensen’s steel. The cuffs feel as wondrously cool against his flesh as he imagined they would so many months ago, the clamps cause shivers to run down his spine, and the plug fits his body like a missing piece, snug against his prostate. Everything feels so extraordinary, so sexy, that it takes many long moments of thinking about math before Jared can add the last adornment. The lock on the penis cage snicks closed with finality, and Jared had already noted there was no key sent along with the rest of the items, but he trusts Jensen, body and soul.

He dresses in his best garments and leaves the smithy for the last time. Out on the street, Jensen is waiting next to his gleaming black carriage, his face alight with joy when he spots Jared.

“You’re perfect,” Jensen says against Jared’s ear as he opens the carriage door.

Jared just smiles. “Take me home,” he says.

 


End file.
